


A Leaf in the Winds of Time

by LordoftheGauntlets



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordoftheGauntlets/pseuds/LordoftheGauntlets
Summary: A short oneshot centered on Chrom, and how he deals with loss, as well as how he finds Robin again.





	A Leaf in the Winds of Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a quick little thing I did, but for some reason I'm really in love with how it turned out.

One year ago, the world had stood on the brink of ruin.  
One year ago, they too had been close to that edge. Ready to crumble into darkness. Their motley group of comrades, soldiers, and allies had been close to collapsing.  
One year ago, something had mended those crumbling bonds, and brought them closer together than ever.  
One year ago, they had fought Grima… and lived.  
Well, all but one. And that one person was the one that, somehow, managed to tear his soul apart faster than Grima ever could.  
Chrom didn’t know what was worse; that he had lost his closest friend, or that he wished that he had been the one to deliver the final blow to Grima, even if it meant bringing the fell dragon upon his descendants. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it. Not now, not ever. He had lost, in all ways except for one. And for that one way, he was grateful. They had, at least, won the war. Grima was dead. The Fell Dragon would never torment them again.  
But that would not raise Robin from the dead. He would be gone forever, like Grima. Merely a leaf in the winds of time. And Chrom would never be able to bring him back.

Two years ago the world had been at the brink of ruin.  
Two years ago he had lost his closest friend.  
Now, he could only try to heal. Heal and place flowers on the graves of those he had lost.   
For Emmeryn, and for Robin. 

But then. Three years after the death of Grima.  
There was a change. Something shifted within him, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint what was off. But even though he felt like he had healed, something still felt like it was missing. It felt like a scab that had healed over had once more opened back up. That feeling wouldn’t go away, no matter what he did to try and fix it. Burying himself in work didn’t help. Visiting the graves didn’t help. Nothing seemed to fix that feeling of something missing.  
So instead, he snuck out of the palace. Well… snuck wasn’t exactly the correct word. More like, he got caught by Lissa, Sumia and Frederick, all demanding to know where he was going. In the end, he had to take Lissa and Frederick along with him, while Sumia agreed to run the kingdom for a little bit. He wasn’t going any particular place, but he was sure that they understood. He wandered a little, and wept a little, and they journeyed across Ylisse like in the days before he became the Exalt, and the whole world went to Hell. Eventually, he had to send them back. Though he loved his companions, he needed peace. Time alone to reflect. To dream.  
And he found himself in the field.   
The one where he met Robin.  
That beautiful field in Southern Ylisse, where he had found him. And where the whole world had gone to Hell, but still.  
And he had woken up from that dream with a feeling of right. So he headed there. He rode across over half of Ylisse, and walked the rest, and it took several weeks, but in the end he made it.  
To the Field. The Field.  
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the completely empty field that greeted him. But something… something felt right. And that feeling patched a hole in his chest that he hadn’t known was there.  
He woke up the next morning after falling asleep in the field feeling more rested than he ever had in… many years. In fact, ever since the war started. And then he looked next to him.  
And scrambling to his feet, he looked at the form next to him.  
And he took in the Plegian coat.  
And the messy hair.  
And the hand, that now, years later, was finally devoid of the Fell Dragon’s mark.  
And stared as that hand reached upwards and took his own, and something finally, finally, registered in his brain.  
“There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know.”


End file.
